


You'll Feel Right At Home

by Star_less



Series: the 'snips, snails, puppy-dog tails' verse [7]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Desperation, Domestic Avengers, Gen, Grumpy Peter Parker, Infantilism, IronDad & SpideySon, Irondad, Kid Peter Parker, Not Canon Compliant, Omorashi, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker gets Spoiled, Poor Peter Parker, Post-Avengers (2012), Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Stuffed Toys, Team as Family, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, flash thompson is a dick, spideyson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-27 05:09:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19783903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_less/pseuds/Star_less
Summary: With an increasingly antsy Peter wishing he had a mission or something to do, Tony decides to take him on a bit of a shopping spree. One slushie later it begins going wrong; one unfortunate meeting later it slides into 'even worse'. Can Tony, ever the superhero dad, save the day...?





	You'll Feel Right At Home

**Author's Note:**

> Read tags. Peter acts younger than he is because I write him that way. Contains omorashi and infantilism.

As it turned out, no amount of sulking nor buttering Stark up would result in a mission materialising out of thin air. They had to wait, everybody had to wait was what Steve had gently reminded him, and that SHIELD had flagged nothing major that hadn't already been dealt with. Still, Peter couldn't help but mope - finding that the long slow days unwound with him drifting grumpily room to room in the Tower overseeing what everybody else was up to just to have something to do. 

And, well, as it turned out... looking after a bored teenager was somehow worse than looking after a bored toddler. Stark, having no prior experience with kids or teens other than the fact that he used to be one, assumed that all one should do when the inevitable, 'I'm booooo-oooored' whine rang out over the room, was throw a book or a board game or some summer homework in the child's general direction and that was that. However that was evidently not the case with Peter. 'Go and ask Bruce to borrow a storybook' was met with a derisive snort, 'why don't you play a board game?' was met with an, 'I'm not five!' (Tony had to bite his tongue to stop himself from whipping back with a sharp, 'stop acting like it then') and, 'complete your summer homework, then,' was met with a slightly sulky, 'I've already done it, Mr. Stark'. Eventually - if only to stop him sinking back six martinis one after the other and tearing out his own hair - Tony gestured toward the door and threw Peter's Spider-Man suit at him. "Go. Out, now. Go and look around the neighbourhood like the good friendly Spider-Man you are." he instructed with a huff. He visibly bristled as Peter huffed in response and slouched out suited up. No sooner had the door slammed did Tony run a stressed hand over his temple, trying to rub out the stress lines forming on his forehead. "Kids," he declared with a groan. 

"It's good," Steve murmured, setting the television on pause from where he had been catching up on Sherlock. "That he's getting grumpy. Means he's settled in here. Gotten comfortable."

"Thanks for your wisdom," Tony sighed, head still in his hands. "No, I know, it's just... I can't magic a mission out of thin air for him. I think he thought the Avengers were a bit more..."

"Interesting?"

"I was going to say glam, but that works too." Tony nodded. 

Steve shrugged. "He can go on a mission as soon as one comes up that he can help in, same as the rest of us."

The two chatted on slowly for a while. Their chatter quickly evolved from talking about Peter; of course sometimes their conversation was stilted and awkward, but still they chatted. Steve kept tight lipped about Peter's nightly visits, although he wasn't too sure if Stark knew what was going on or not. "You should get some things for his room." He said suddenly, gaze drifting back to the television. At some point during the conversation Steve had switched Sherlock back on, although he had delved so deep into his conversation with Tony that he wasn't paying much attention to it. He had drifted back toward the clicker to pause it once more, splashing an advertisement for homeware all over the screen.

Tony frowned and looked to Steve to clarify. Blustering, Steve shrugged. "Everyone else here has their... thing, you know? A shield, a hammer, bow-and-arrow... their own little space. If Peter had more of his own space perhaps he'd spend more time there and less time under everyone's feet."  
It seemed like a stupidly obvious suggestion to Steve now that he'd said it, but judging by the thoughtful look on Tony's face he was clearly thinking it over. "Yeah." he murmured at last, nodding approvingly. "Yeah, that's a good idea. You're smarter than you look, Rogers." he teased lightly. Steve scoffed. Unpaused. 

"Although, I heard the Robert Downey Jr. adaptation was better." Tony nodded toward the tv where Benedict Cumberbatch's smugly, stupidly perfect face was now smiling back at them. “So, perhaps you’re dumb after all. Benadryl Cucumberpatch, really?”

"I don't know," Steve murmured thoughtfully, "I was recommended Cumberbatch, so..."

Tony was about to respond, words forming on the tip of his tongue, when the crisply clear tones of JARVIS rang out through the common room. "Sir, the young sir has finished his patrolling--"

"In twenty minutes? Impressive. No, I don't think he has, Jay."

"--and has a message for you."

"Mr. Stark, it's real quiet out here." Peter responded, his voice soft - and still whiny. "Honestly, there's nothing to do. I think everyone's having a day off."  
It was true; the most interesting thing he had seen so far was something of a chaos outside of their local ATM where one of the ATM machines had malfunctioned and dollar bills spewed free. He had ran forward to go and tell the managers in the bank, but they thought he was trying to steal the money and shoo'd him away. As a last resort he had made Karen check things over, but she had nothing to report. It meant he went back to slinging his way up to a rooftop and settling there, watching the sleepy city go through the motions. 

Tony sighed and chewed it over slowly. "Alright, twenty minutes is fine. Come back, me and you are gonna take a little outing."

‘An outing’ sounded exciting for Peter, especially when he had been developing cabin fever the longer and longer he went without being chosen for a mission; the teenager immediately began to conjure up wild fantasies of he and Stark going out and avenging the world together, or speeding around burning rubber in Stark’s best cars, or.. or, even just a simple visit to Wal-Mart.   
(It seemed that even the groceries had to be top-secretly shipped, and Peter found he was beginning to miss his and May’s quirks, like sniffing entire shelves of bubble bath in an effort to pick the best ones.)   
So, when Tony took him toward a Home Depot and told him to, ‘pick anything and everything he wants’ with the promise of going to further stores later, Peter was in his element. “Mr. Stark,” he asked, voice quivering with nervous surprise as he took in the realms of brightly coloured aisles around him. “Are you positively sure?”  
May didn’t have the greatest level of income, so Peter was rarely treated as extravagantly as this, and he had gotten used to ‘making do’ with his stuff - yes, even when he had to bunch his toes up tightly in his shoes to make room.

“Positively.” Tony agreed and gestured for Peter to move ahead. “Your bedroom in the Tower needs to be... yours. Pick out anything you’d like. Heck, even if it’s for your bedroom back in Queens. Go for it.”

Peter started off skittishly slow, only drifting to the standard items - a navy blue duvet set, a matching lamp, chunky curtains in red like his suit with a blue zigzag trim, a clean white desk for his homework. Tony would never tease him for buying things like those, never see him as babyish. However - as much as he hated himself for it - Peter couldn’t stop his gaze from drifting toward a certain colourful area stuffed with teddies, nightlights and patterned beanbags all the same. Atop one of the shelves was a nightlight that Peter was particularly interested in - shaped as though it were Iron Man’s hand shooting a bright beam of light into the room. Well, he reasoned to himself, that hallway between his bedroom in the Tower and the bathroom seemed to get longer and heavier and darker each night - so a nightlight would come in handy...

“What are you looking at, pumpkin?” Tony asked casually, seeing Peter stood still in front of the nightlight display, about as subtle as a brick. Tony had been trying to suss out just what it was that Peter had been drifting back to, but only now had he realised. A nightlight? 

“N- nothing, Mr. Stark..” Peter blustered nervously, darting away from the display as thought it had caught fire. He fidgeted unsurely and looked away.   
“We can... we can go look for something else,” he mumbled uneasily, tearing his gaze away.   
Frowning, Stark kneeled in front of him - all too able to read Peter like a book. “Peter, this is the only chance you’re gonna get today. If you want something, you’re going to have to let me know. I’m more than happy to buy it for you, don’t worry if it costs a lot of money.”   
Tony knew, really, that the only reason Peter hesitated was because the nightlight could be seen as babyish and not because of it’s $45 price tag, but he added it on all the same.   
Peter looked at Tony - looked at Tony and held his gaze - for what felt like an achingly long time before, cracking, he was first to look away in favour of nervously fidgeting with the hem of his t-shirt. “I.. you, uh.. I kinda wanted this nightlight, but.. but it’s too babyish, isn’t it?” Tony’s young protege admitted at long last, sounding subdued as though he had already mentally crossed off his ideas of getting the light. Tony straightened up and stepped forward, studying the light closely with an interested frown. “Mmm. No, I think it looks great.” He deduced, feeling an odd warmth well inside him when Peter’s big brown eyes widened with surprise. “It’ll look great in your room, and it’s helpful for any late night work.” He lifted a sealed box from the display and placed it into their steadily filling shopping cart. “Of course, not that I’m endorsing late night work, or anything, teenager. Full eight hours of sleep for you. Or is it nine?”

Peter gasped excitedly as he took in the box, certainly not brave enough to tell Stark that it’d be great for helping him get to his nightly toilet visit or clean up a soaked bed without grabbing the attention of somebody else in the Tower. “Yeah,” he said with a mixture of a laugh and a gasp, “It’ll be good for all of that.. uh, late night homework.”  
From this point, from just that comforting cocooning realisation that no, Tony wasn’t going to tease him no matter what he chose, Peter felt as though he had been re-energised with new confidence. He walked the aisles excitedly, requesting ‘this’, ‘oh, that’, ‘the red one on the top shelf’ until the cart was brimming full with gifts. He had trodden carefully and chose some… neutral things - like a set of blue box shelves and some Star Wars Funko Pops, a comforter, red and fleecy with a darker trim or a huge, glossy orange poster with a science pun on it that made the pair stop and giggle as they passed by.   
But the item that Peter had his eye on most of all..?   
A teddybear. A modestly sized teddybear with snow-white fur that was tipped silvery grey on the ends, with a black velvet snub of a nose and eyes set into the fur that were large, glass and glinting mischievously. Its mouth was stitched into a not-quite-perfect smile, a calm loveable expression rather than one that was Scrooge-like. The paw-pads were soft and filled just right around his thumbs.  
Peter found it difficult to settle when he didn’t have anything to squeeze or cuddle in the evenings. Especially when he’d found himself uprooted from his usual routine and placed in an unfamiliar Tower where he seemed to have nightly wettings. But now, right here, in the aisle of the Home Depot, Peter was longing to pluck the stuffed polar bear up from where it was lounging on the shelf.   
Slowly, with a sudden hesitancy in his features, he did. “Mr. Stark, I’d like this bear.” He explained, voice silvery and sheepishly small. 

“Cool,” Stark agreed, not flinching at this — nor when Peter refused to put the bear into the cart and instead held it under one arm protectively. They began to walk once more.

“What are you going to name it?” 

“Hm?”

“Well, you have to name it. Is it a he or a she?”

Peter realised a little too slowly that Stark was talking about the bear that he was so lovingly holding in his arms; he looked down at it- her- with a blush beginning to form on his cheeks. “I- I don’t know,” he lied and hoped the blushing didn’t give his game away too much. There was no way he could explain to Tony Stark of all people that she was called Snowy and she was a she, thank you very much, without sounding like he belonged in the nearest under-fives daycare. Closing his eyes in an attempt to calm his blushing—

“Carrying a teddybear ‘round, Parker? Faggot.”

“D’you need a fresh milky and a diaper change too?”

“No wonder you’re basically an orphan. No one would want to keep a freak like you. Your aunt is going to give you up too, just you wait and see.”

—he could hear Flash’s voice rising in his ears and… and it just sounded so… real. Bristling, Peter’s eyes opened. He refused to let tears build up, but looked down uncertain at Snowy. “Perhaps… perhaps I should leave it behind. It’s for kids. I don’t need one.” he said. Even then, he couldn’t stop his voice from trembling.   
Stark looked hesitant too, shaking his head. He could see Peter reconsidering. “There’s no age limit.” He shrugged a little awkwardly, finding it difficult to know exactly how to comfort the boy… until he remembered…  
“I took a teddybear with me when I started boarding at college.” The genius eventually admitted with a sigh. Peter gave him a brow-raising look that suggested he didn’t quite believe him, but Tony nodded sincerely. “Totally true. Ask the Dean.”

Peter hesitated, looking back down at the bear with a longing in his eyes. He… he did really want this bear… and perhaps if even big bad Tony Stark had one, then it was okay…? And… and, well, perhaps he was imagining it, but Snowy looked as though she wanted to go home with them…

“Okay,” Peter said in a small silvery voice, a smile coming to his face as he clutched the bear tightly - protectively, almost - in one arm. 

The duo continued their shopping spree for a short while longer. Tony was not used to shopping, considering Pepper was usually in charge of their groceries and everything got delivered straight to them anyway, but still they shopped. The cart wasn’t quite full yet, there were still empty gaps… it could do with a little more filling. Somewhere along the way Peter had wound himself around Stark’s littlest finger and managed to grab himself a slushee; somewhere a little further along the way, Peter had drained the entire thing and was sucking in air from the straw so it rattled. After what felt like the ten thousandth rattle that made the hairs on the back of Tony’s neck bristle, the genius billionaire sighed. “Alright, kid, I think that’s enough of that. Put it in the garbage please.”“Okay, Mr. Stark.” Peter chirped, shimmying off to the nearest trash bin. He returned as quickly as he had left, and the pair returned to shopping just for a short while to fill the last gaps in the cart… although what Stark had first noticed as a shimmy of impatience was… perhaps something else. “Alright, kiddo, think that’s the last of the shopping?” He asked as casually and as conversationally as possible once they had drifted around a few more aisles, in a way that he hoped didn’t tip Peter off that he knew. 

Peter gripped the metal bars of the shopping cart tightly, nervously pressing his legs a little tighter together. As they had continued to shop, the teenager had begun to feel the slushie he had drunk settle in his tummy - settle all cold and ticklish. He wasn’t a baby, he knew perfectly well what it meant.. and he was perfectly able to hold it in, thank you very much. Still… finishing up shopping meant he was one step closer to getting home and going to the bathroom, something he’d found himself thinking about more and more and more. A shiver danced its way down his spine as he cast a longing look toward the direction of the in-store bathrooms, but he bit it back and nodded at his mentor. “Yes, Mr. Stark. I think we shopped enough.” He giggled lightly, but it was frayed at the edges and came out sounding a little too tight, a little too nervous - and made something ripple in his lower abdomen. Peter bounced on his toes, hoping it came off as excitement as Stark looked him over. 

“Don’t need to do anything else?” Stark squinted, in a way that made Peter shiver. The kid didn’t look… right. Suddenly he was nervy and bouncy in a way he hadn’t been before. Stark knew Peter well enough to know that he may have been in need of a bathroom, but a needling whine in the back of his mind told him that Peter was fifteen years of age — fifteen years of age and perfectly capable of telling Stark when he was in need of a bathroom.   
The teenager himself fidgeted, stepping on his toes again, and looked at the floor as he shook his head with a blush. “No, Mr. Stark.” He lied. He didn’t want to go to the bathroom if it meant he had to put his bear down, in case someone found it and stole it away from him.

“Okay…” Stark felt as though this was something he should have pushed on, but he shrugged it off and the two walked off toward the cash desks. Peter fidgeted the whole way there; although it was only when he settled in line behind the billionaire that his need seemed to increase. He looked around anxiously, despite knowing there was no way he could escape and run to the bathrooms, and tugged at the waistband of his jeans slightly when his bladder pulsed. At the same time, the tiniest whimper pushed past his teeth as he rubbed the tender area and a shiver forked over his back. Tony, stood slightly in front of him, couldn’t quite see his protege or any of the smaller child’s movements - seeing only the faintest jiggling out of the corner of his eyes.

“Excuse me, Mr. Stark,” said a voice that certainly wasn’t Peter, and Tony finally clocked on to the cashier who was ringing up the total and bagging items simultaneously just in front of him. He shot a glance toward her and she seemed to melt beneath his gaze, flushing a nice shade of pink. “Um,” she smiled. “I couldn’t help but notice, your son? If… If he’s in need of a bathroom, we have family facilities just down that hallway.” She indicated a small corridor with her scanner. Tony’s brows furrowed and then relaxed. “Oh no,” he said in a tone that was all too grateful because, pshh, Peter would have told him if he needed to go… right? “He’s fine. Isn’t that ri—”

Then Tony turned around.

Then Tony turned around and saw—really, it would have been almost comical if the sight didn’t make panic rise in his belly—Peter quivering, red faced, hands buried into his crotch as deep as he could achieve without letting go of his new stuffed animal— and caught in the middle of a potty dance a toddler would’ve been jealous of - tightly crossed legs, shuffling, the lot. “Oh, Peter…” Tony said instead, rubbing his temples as he kneeled to the child’s level (Peter’s glistening brown eyes following his movements in an instant) - “Is she right? You have to…?”

Peter almost hesitated, cheeks burning, but a stern look from Stark stopped him in his tracks. He looked at his feet again and bunched his toes up tightly in his shoes. “Yes.” He told the rubber bumpers of his Converse, refusing to look up at his mentor (or the nosy cashier who apparently knew everything) for he was sure he would combust with utter embarrassment. At long last he looked up. “I- I know where the toilet is. I’ll go, you buy the stuff.” He reassured tightly.   
…Ah. At this Tony hesitated - because a part of him really thought he should’ve accompanied Peter to the bathroom especially in such a busy store… but Peter began to squirm and whimper in a way that Tony hadn’t heard from him before and it refuelled his panic. “Alright, alright. I’ll come and get you as soon as everything’s cashed in. If you need me you call.”

Peter nodded but didn’t move, standing on his toes in desperation to try and kill off the sensation of his pee coming closer and closer to leaking out. “You have to look after Snowy!” He blurted in sudden realisation, redness leaking into his cheeks although he was too desperate to be embarrassed. He passed Stark the bear urgently with a hop.

“I will,” Tony promised, taking and squeezing the bear. In all honesty Tony just hoped he’d make it in time; he hadn’t exactly planned on bringing the kid a diaper bag.  
~

“Please be free, please be free, please be free…” Peter groaned to himself under his breath, feeling like his heart was going to pound out of his chest. His hands were gripped tight beneath his legs, groping at the damp material of his jeans rather uselessly - but Peter was just glad that the damage to his jeans consisted only of a wet spot the size of a plum, and nothing more. With the bathroom in his eyeline Peter relaxed a little, feeling his breaths even out in his chest, and burst through the bathroom door with a sense of relief, even if he hadn’t peed yet. Good. This was… good. He had made it, and… and things were okay. Out of the corner of his eye, misty with urgent tears, he could see a blurry figure standing near the single urinal. Cubicle it was, then. He took a step forward to push open the cubicle door, but was swiftly blocked off by the blurry figure. Blinking his tears of urgency away Peter looked up, and saw…

“Oh, poor Peter Parker’s going to tinkle all over himself,” cackled the cooing, mocking voice of one Flash Thompson. At this, Peter’s face flooded an even brighter shade of red than it had been before, and his breath caught in his throat. “N-no, I’m not!” He choked out, even if he wasn’t quite so sure of this himself and if Flash didn’t move soon he was sure there would be a very big puddle on the floor. “Please, please just get out of the way. What do you even want.” He asked softly, pathetically, no fire to his voice. 

Parker wasn’t playing ball today. How dull. “I don’t know,” Flash shrugged. “Seeing you embarrass yourself wasn’t part of the plan but here we are.” He mocked with a grin, still happy to block off Peter’s path. Whenever the teenager made a quick movement in either direction Flash was just as quick to step in front of him. This went on for a short while. Peter could feel wetness crawling down the insides of his pant legs whenever he jiggled and had to try his hardest to stop himself from grimacing. At the same time a bolt swept right through him from the top of his head to the tip of his toes; it tugged his breath away and forced him to double over at the waist to plug the leaking dam up, juuuuustalittlelonger…   
There, in that position, Peter didn’t move. He knew the cubicle was right-there but it felt like his legs were glued to the floor and that if he did so much as take a step, he really was going to lose it and ‘tinkle all over himself’… and he didn’t quite want to give Flash the satisfaction of seeing that.  
A little whimper fell from his mouth when he felt his hand, tightly curled between his legs, grow wetter as a burst of pee gushed past his fingers and began the quick hot descent down the inner leg of his jeans. A real, heavy pearl this time and not just a feeble spit.   
Please, Mr. Stark… Peter thought to himself, face crawling with humiliation as he felt Flash gleefully drinking him in. Mr. Stark had to be done with the shopping soon, he had to be. Please, Mr. Stark, where are you…

Another heavy spray dampened his legs and this time he could feel a puddle, as small as it was, pooling at his feet; he cringed, his body shuddered. Not here. Please, not here, not in front of him. Mr. Stark was different, he didn’t mind so much, he even helped Peter clean up afterwards if he asked for help. Except he wasn’t here, even when Peter really needed him to be. 

“Ohhh!” Flash gasped in a whisper, grinning as he saw the small puddle forming at Peter’s feet. “See, Parker, you are pissing yourself after all! What a baby.” He jeered. Then his voice changed and became much more high and soft, as though he really was speaking to a baby. “Should we help baby make it to the potty like he wants?” He cooed, and before Peter had the time to think or even instinctively lash out Flash pushed and then slammed him against the cubicle door, blowing it open. Peter stumbled backwards in surprise, keening around a cry of upset. He landed hard, bottom first, onto the open seat of the toilet.

“That’s it, Parker.” Flash cooed, lisping in what really was a poor imitation of Peter’s voice. Ah. Unfortunately Peter’s wish wasn’t the case.  
“Cry for your precious Mr. Stark. Where is he? Where is he, hmm? I don’t see him anywhere, do you?” He asked, looking around theatrically for the elder man and clearly relishing every second. Peter’s gaze slowly mimicked Flash’s own but he couldn’t give any form of answer — whimpering instead. Even just that tiny, primal noise was ammunition for Flash, who giggled. “Exactly. He’s not here. Because you’re full of bullshit, Parker. A shame, really. Then we’d all see just how much of ‘Mr. Stark’s super special intern’ you really are. I’m sure he’d like to see his super special intern pissing himself. Not so super-fucking-special then!” He hissed, breath hot and lashing at Peter with every word.  
Somewhere in the distance (clearly not at the forefront of his mind now that he had something else to focus on and had gone into full fight-or-flight mode) Peter’s bladder pushed at him, and Peter found it quite a miracle that he had held on for as long as he had. Through panicked vision he saw Flash’s fist draw backwards and look to be as if it was going to connect with his tender, really-quite-full abdomen. He groaned in protest and fought against his instincts to lash out, curled in to protect himself with a ‘no, please!’ just about tearing itself from his lips… when the sound of the main door swinging open seemed to slice through the atmosphere. There was a long moment of silence so tense Peter could practically hear the discomfort coming off of him and Flash in waves.

“What the fuck is going on in here?” thundered the voice of a rather angry sounding Tony Stark. “Peter, are you alright?”If Peter thought his bladder was coping okay just a handful of minutes ago, the anxiety pulsing through his body now at the sound of Tony’s terrifyingly angry voice certainly made his need crush into his mid-section at full speed. Sure, he had seen Mr. Stark angry before, and he had seen Mr. Stark angry at him before too; but he hadn’t ever heard Mr. Stark use those kinds of angry words before. Now, Peter wasn’t stupid — he went to public school, for God’s sakes — his classmates’ vocabulary was pretty much made up of swear words like that. But coming from Mr. Stark’s mouth they suddenly sounded a whole lot scarier, even more so when Peter didn’t quite understand what he had done to warrant such an outburst. “I’m sorry, Mr. Stark, I- I just, I just really have to…” he stammered, trailing off and having to focus on holding it, his face screwing up with pain. Every now and then it felt as though a little fireball of pain would dance its way through his middle, and every time one did so, it would bring his pee closer and closer to coming out. “Oh no, oh no, it’s gonna…!” He squeaked to himself, rocking, voice coming out without his say-so all girlish and light and breathy as his body seemed not to remember that it wasn’t just him and Stark in this bathroom. 

“Not you, kiddo,” Stark affirmed, locking eyes with the high schooler who had darted out of Peter’s bathroom stall the second he had heard the door swing open. This goddamn kid. He looked familiar somehow. Stark remembered Peter telling him about being tormented at school, the rich kid, the… shit, this was—  
“Flash, right? Flash Thompson?” If Stark was flubbing this he made no point of showing it, his voice steely with a sharpness on the ends, enough to stun Flash into silence at least. “Uh, yeah, would you like to explain what the hell you were doing to my intern? Cause that looked to me like assault, pal. I could have you charged for something like this. Cops won’t care that you look like you’ve walked fresh out the nearest daycare, kiddo. They’d do a whole lot worse than what you were trying out just now.” Worse than what I want to do to you, asshole, Tony amended in his head although thought better of saying it out loud.   
Flash gulped. “N- nothing, Mr. Stark.” He stammered, practically quivering under the pressure of having Stark stand before him. Something about standing in his shadow made all the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. Something else, so far down it was hiding in his gut, made him feel sick because holy fucking shit, Penis Parker was telling the truth. He really did know Tony Stark. He wasn’t bluffing?!  
People at school, teachers, they were no problem. Hell, they barely cared if he picked on the underdog because… What did the underdog matter?… But Stark… Stark was a different story entiely. Stark had power and contacts. He was sure that if Tony didn’t beat his ass into dust on the ground right here right now, the ensuing catastrophe afterward would make his father beat his ass into dust on the ground at least.   
“Please don’t… please don’t hurt me.” He gasped, before grasping his chance at escape as quickly as possible and silently hoofing it out of the bathroom without an apology to Peter for what he had done. Tony scoffed in response at that comment.  
It made Peter feel weird to see Flash look… well, a bit weak and scared, pretty much the position he himself had been in. One part of him relished it, the other felt a tiny bit sorry for him. Peter watched him go and, once silence settled and it truly was just him and Stark, he hiccupped. Oh how he wanted to burst into laughter at the fact that Flash thought Mr. Stark really was going to hurt him… except he had something a little more pressing to deal with first. “Mr. Stark,” he hissed, whimpering as he rubbed his swollen abdomen and tried to ignore the dampness where he had already been steadily dripping, “I’m gonna explode!”

“You’re good, kiddo. Go, go.” Tony reassured, yanking Peter’s stall door shut. A flitting worry came to Peter’s head that oh no, Mr. Stark was going to hear him — but he was too desperate to truly care about that at this point. He yanked his jeans off with such ferocity that the button snapped off and it wasn’t a second longer after the jeans and boxers came down that Peter finally —finally!—began to pee where he was sat. Too desperate to even attempt standing!  
As the strong stream splattered against the bowl Peter shivered, a big shiver that came right from his tummy and forced him to go slack back against the seat. At the same time, he rubbed his tummy as he went, and groaned. His toes curled in relief as that familiar sensation of emptiness fell over him. He had made it. That had been way, way too close for comfort.

“Phew, kid.” Tony whistled, wincing as he heard the hard strong stream coming from the boy; it was that heavy it almost made Tony himself need to take a leak. “Next time, let me know before you explode?”

There was a soft rustling as Peter shifted, shook, and got himself tucked back into his boxers. He stood and exited the stall to wash his hands, face flushed a pink-red-white mosaic although he wasn’t quite sure if it was because Mr. Stark had to hear him pee or if Mr. Stark had to see him looking so weak and small.   
He kept his head down and refused to meet Stark’s gaze whatsoever, washing his hands in an uncomfortable silence with the tense realisation that Stark was watching his every move. It didn’t quite make sense to him; he had made it to the bathroom and yet the happy ball of pride in the pit of his belly was tinged with upset. He hadn’t wanted Stark to catch him like this—all desperate and wet eyed—he had really wanted today to run as smoothly as it possibly could and it almost had, until Flash. Now, it sort of felt like Mr. Stark just felt sorry for him.   
(…Which was for all intents and purposes entirely true, although Tony certainly wasn’t going to reveal that.) He drummed his fingers against one another in wait for his protege to finish washing up. “Hey, kiddo,” he murmured, a tiny flush of sympathy to his tone although he tried to keep it out, “Come on, we still have plenty of shopping to do. Let’s go to the toy store.” He said, shamelessly unable to keep the rolling waves of excitement from building up within him nor the wide smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

Fortunately, Peter couldn’t hide his excitement either. “I wanna get some Lego,” 

“To the Lego Store!” Tony grinned as he ushered Peter out of the bathroom, the meeting with Flash hopefully forgotten for favour of Star Wars Lego.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not so sure of this one. I like it, but I sort of don't, but I sort of hate all of this fic, at the same time. Lol.


End file.
